As winter officially approaches and Christmas is right around the corner, I was reminded of an eight page "recollection" I found in the archives. Written in Harriet's hand, it's undated, but she was born in 1822. From her description of her surprise at being allowed to be a part of the evening, I imagine her as a young teenager when this event occurred, so perhaps circa 1835. It appears to be late winter, but because it seemed to be an important evening, I can imagine it was a Christmas gathering.
I think her words speak for themselves:
One providential escape we did have. We were a party of
twenty perhaps, in a large barge drawn by four horses driven by a strange driver.
We were invited for an evening company at the Consul’s. I have often wondered
that I was permitted to go, for the weather had grown strangely milder with a
warm south wind, and low lying mist threatening rain, and it became almost
muggy as night drew on – we were cordially welcomed, but as the hours passed and we had taken
supper there were frequent consultations between Charles and his father. At
length the Consul said to us “At the risk of seeming inhospitable I must either
send you early home, or keep you for the night, which I should prefer, but for
your mothers" – we understood that he feared the breaking up of the ice. To stay
seemed impossible and we hurriedly donned our wraps and tumbled into the big
sleigh, a man being sent along with a lantern. At the parting of the ways, one
to the bridge, one to the ferry, there was a brief consultation which road we
should take, but the ice was decided upon. I can still hear the slump, slump of
those many feet through the snow and rotten ice. The next morning Dr. Jarvis
who was of the party called to say the escape was a narrow one, for at dawn the
river was clear of ice save where piled upon its banks. The other road might
have been still more dangerous. We must have driven slowly and who knows that at
the bend, one mile from town where the road borders on the river and is hemmed
in on the other side by a steep unclimbable hill, we might have been caught and
crushed by the swirling grimeling cakes of ice, tons in weight that piled the
road here. A swift horse well driven can out run the ice torrent as has been
done This break up being of yearly occurrence.
If you are a Walker/Watters grandchild, Harriet was your great-great-great grandmother.
